Evil
by The Madness Behind
Summary: Just before he dies, Lind L. Taylor reflects on his past, and how everything went so wrong.


_The night of timeless fire is drawing near  
I flee... Throughout the years of throe  
Watching through a mirror, as I fall apart  
I see a wreck, I'm burning_

_I see angels burning, falling down in ruins  
Looking down I see me, I'm my own enemy_

_Watching myself decaying, falling from high spirits  
I flee... Throughout the ruins of me  
Longing for finding my way out  
Leaving myself, there's nothing left for me  
The ruins are about to crumble down._

_The flame is dying by shivery winds of jet black skies  
It reflects hatred in my eyes_

_I see angels burning, falling down in ruins  
Looking down I see my ashes scattered around my grave_

_Angels whispering fire, no longer I'm alive  
Settled down I'm done with the trip to my kingdom come_

-Children of Bodom, "Downfall"

Five minutes.

In five minutes, Lind L. Taylor would be executed.

As any person does when they know their death is imminent, he looked back upon his life, the people he'd loved and lost, the mistakes he'd made.

It had never come out the way Lind had wanted it to.

He had been born into a lower-class family in the United States. Even as a small child, Lind had known there was something different about his life – he didn't know anyone else whose father regularly brought home prostitutes and had sex with them in plain sight.

He didn't know anyone else whose mother forced him to stand on the corner and beg for money, money she'd spend the next day shooting herself up with heroin.

He didn't know anyone else who had to stay with their aunt and uncle half the time while their parents were in jail for domestic violence. He didn't know anyone else whose uncle did _those things_ to them.

Lind L. Taylor grew to hate his family. As he got older, his hatred expanded to include everyone who even so much as looked at him the wrong way. He hated them so much. By his early teens, he was in and out of jail for theft, assault, and other petty crimes. His parents, too strung out to give a damn, just ignored it completely.

Ironically, Lind's first murders occurred on his fifteenth birthday. It was ironic, he decided, because it was the same day they had brought him into the world that he hated so very much. His father died first; Lind stabbed him more than forty times with a cake knife he'd stolen from the store. He thought it was rather funny, because they hadn't bothered to get him a cake. His mother died soon after; Lind tied her to her bed and set her on fire. He'd laughed as she died. He'd also cried a little, too, though it took him a long time to realize why.

After that day, he just left. Lind L. Taylor killed so many people in the next two years that he was surprised he could even remember all of them.

He'd killed one of his father's favorite prostitutes next. She'd screamed, of course, and pleaded, but Lind didn't hear it. He was too busy replaying his own childhood horrors in his head as he robotically slashed at her with the knife.

An old couple in Ohio. Lind hadn't meant to kill them – it just happened. It was the first time he found that he couldn't control himself. He just wanted to destroy everything he came in contact with.

Three more prostitutes. Lind hated prostitutes. They reminded him so much of his bastard father.

He killed a pimp, too. It hadn't been intentional, but he'd walked in on Lind while he was cleaning up from a particularly vicious murder.

And his final two victims – A young couple. These two were different. They were _happy_, and Lind hadn't wanted to kill them. But he'd been forced to. They saw him in the park as he killed a particularly rancid hooker he'd picked up. They saw him. He knew he had to kill them, even if he didn't want to. So he did.

But their son, their young son, he escaped. Lind had thought about that boy a lot. He had wondered what had become of him, wondered if he was going to end up as fucked up as Lind was.

The police had arrested him three days later, thanks to the boy's description of him. He had not known until that time that the famous detective L had been investigating the case until L's evidence was presented. Interestingly, the media never got hold of the story, even though Lind was tried, convicted of thirteen grisly murders, and sentenced to death.

It was a turning point in his life, in more than one way.

In prison, Lind had discovered something he'd never paid much mind to before: religion. He began attending Sunday services, praying, and studying the Christian bible. Slowly, a change came over him.

He began to feel what he had done.

Lind began to feel _guilty_ inside. It was strange at first, but soon he realized that what he had done, the murders he had committed, that was wrong. He couldn't be the one to decide whether or not another human being lived. It was _wrong_.

And so, when the detective, L, had approached him five days before his execution was scheduled to take place, he listened closely to the offer.

He would go on television and pretend he was L himself, to call out the killer known as Kira. If he survived, which both L and Lind knew he likely wouldn't, his sentence would be commuted to life in prison. If he died, which was probable, Lind would at least get the satisfaction of being able to do something to help others. To stop the judgments that they both knew were wrong, to stop the man who was pretending to be God.

Lind agreed to it.

And so, here he was.

"One minute," the station's director said.

His mouth felt oddly dry.

Fifty seconds.

It was for a good cause, he knew, but he couldn't help being afraid.

Forty-five seconds.

"Are you ready?" the distorted voice of L came from a small black box on the desk next to Lind.

"I am," Lind said.

Thirty seconds.

A sudden thought flashed through his head.

Twenty-five seconds.

"I have a last request," said Lind.

Twenty seconds.

A pause, and then – "What is your request?"

Fifteen seconds.

"I just want to know something," Lind said.

Twelve seconds.

"Yes?"

Ten seconds.

Lind took a deep breath. "Whatever happened to that boy, Mail Jeevas?"

Five seconds.

"Mail Jeevas," L's distorted voice said, "is in the care of the orphanage I grew up in."

Three seconds.

"Is he doing all right?" Lind asked.

Two seconds.

"Yes," L said.

One second.

"Good."

"You're on!"

Lind adjusted the name plate in front of him slightly and looked into the camera.

"A live broadcast from the ICPO, Interpol, will now begin. So here it is."

Lind stared into the camera for a moment. Then he repeated the lines L had told him to say. He was momentarily thankful that he had learned Japanese in prison. "I am the one person who controls the entire planet's police force."

He paused.

"Lind L. Taylor; alias, L."

Lind knew his death would happen soon. He was sure of it. He wasn't afraid anymore; in fact, he felt almost relieved to be leaving the world that had gone so wrong for him.

"To the murderer who is targeting criminal after criminal," he said, "this is unforgivable, the worst crime in history."

He wondered vaguely if Mail would see this. He hoped so. He hoped Mail would forgive him for stealing his innocence so long ago.

"Consequently, I will catch the ringleader of these crimes, referred to vulgarly as 'Kira'."

Lind knew Kira was probably expecting something like this to happen. L had even told him so. He paused, took a breath, and continued.

"Kira, I can imagine what you must be thinking, to do something like this."

For Lind, it was more than just imagining. He _knew_.

"But, what you are doing is…"

L had chosen to use the word 'wrong', but Lind felt his own word would be far more appropriate.

"_EVIL._"

His speech finished, Lind had nothing more to do than sit and wait.

A strange feeling came over him. One he hadn't felt since the age of fifteen.

He wanted to cry.

Not because he was afraid, or scared of death.

It was because he knew he deserved it.

And so, he just sat, waiting for his time to come.

Lind suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest, accompanied by a feeling of dizziness. He made a small noise in the back of his throat and grabbed his chest, writhing slightly. He made one more noise, a sort of "Accck" sound, and then collapsed onto the desk.

Although no one could see it, the last thing Lind L. Taylor did before he died was smile.

_Lord knows,_ he thought, _I deserve it_.


End file.
